Sick Little Games
by Wicked and Complex
Summary: A millionare, a student, a hacker, and a hitman play Jigsaw's lastest twisted game. A collaboration between Citizen Complex and Delightfully Wicked.
1. Play Me

Chris awoke to the familiar sight of the grimy ceiling above. He must have been so drunk they kicked him out – again. No problem, though, he would just waltz right back in and grab another cold one. He wearily stood up, stretched, and let out a loud yawn. His head stung with the pain of a fresh hangover.

"Barkeep," He called out with a slight slur, "Fix me the usual, I'm coming back."

It was at this point Chris realized that he wasn't in the alleyway behind his local pub, but instead in a bare, sunless room, devoid of any decorations, or life - but him. There was a lone door at the other end of the room – and a gray tape recorder on it.

All the blood dropped from his face immediately. His skin turned a paper-white color. His synapses were overwhelmed by memories of the last game with those mutts, those damned mutts. His hand moved unconsciously to the scar he bore on his chest where one of the mutts had bitten him.

"No," He murmured rapidly, hoping that this was all a nightmare.

It probably was, he rationalized, one of his business rivals could have brought him to this place when he was out cold as a cruel joke. He had to be sure, though, so he walked over to the tape recorder, and with a deep breath, pressed play.

"Hello Mr. Brill," Jigsaw greeted.

Chris couldn't summon the strength to hear any more, and pressed stop. He crawled into a corner and curled up into a ball, his hands clutching his head as though it may fall off, and began to rock back and forth. He stayed this way for a countless time, trapped in a trance of intense fear.

He had found out the identity of his captor shortly after his escape of the last game, and was torn between admiration and hatred of the serial killer Jigsaw. At the very least, this solved his dilemma – it was hatred.

Finally, Chris rose, knowing he might as well get it over with.

"Hello Mr. Brill," Jigsaw repeated. The very sound of that voice caused Chris to resume his fear trance, but he allowed the tape to continue playing. "Ever since winning my last game, you've wandered around in unhappiness. You've resorted to drinking alcohol almost constantly to ease your so-called 'suffering', and you've drank almost your entire fortune away. Are you so miserable Chris? Did your rebirth change you forever?"

Of course it did. For the first week after the game he could not sleep, for his dreams were plagued with images of the attacking mutts. His alcohol addiction had been small at first – just a few scotches to help him sleep – and developed into a reliance on the substance.

"We're going to try again," Jigsaw continued. "If you feel you no longer desire life, then I'm not stopping you from killing yourself where you stand. However, if you want to live, you'll have to play another game."

"I want to live," Chris responded, "LIVE!"

"The exit to this house is hidden well, as a matter of fact, I can assure you could wander for an eternity and not find it. There are several traps in the house as well. Each trap holds a clue to the whereabouts of the exit. Trapped with you are several other people. You'll need their knowledge, as well as yours, to survive the traps, and find the exit. Let the game begin."

Chris, overwhelmed, lay down on the floor.

"I'll never sleep again," Chris thought.

And yet five minutes later he fainted, and was lost to the world.

Derek woke up slowly at first. He immediately realized he wasn't in his apartment and began to panic. Instinctively, he reached for his laptop. It was lying on his stomach. He sighed in relief.  
He sat up, rubbing his head painfully. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep in his apartment, and now he was in this place…  
Where was he? He thought, looked around. He was in a room with no furniture. There were windows, but they were boarded up. The wallpaper was an ugly rotten brown, and was beginning to peel. There was a lone door at the far end of the room.  
Clueless on what else to do, he opened up his laptop, and the screen buzzed to life. He wanted to make sure all of his documents, programs, and files were still there. What caught his attention, though, was a blinking icon at the bottom of the screen. It was labeled '_Message'.  
_Curious, he clicked on the blinking button, and an audio file activated.  
"Hello Derek," a raspy voice greeted him from his built-in speakers, "Do you appreciate your life? I can tell you what you _do_ appreciate. Your computer."  
What kind of joke was this? Who would go to such lengths of doing something like this? Faintly, though, he remembered hearing the voice somewhere.  
"Day and night you sat at your computer until you were finally able to afford a laptop. But where did that money come from, Derek? Friends? Family? Maybe a loan from the bank? No, Derek, your money came from people."  
He laughed, "Really, Sherlock?" He asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.  
"You robbed credit card numbers, ruined lives, and caused torment and fear to complete strangers. And you did it all from the comfort of your own home."  
Derek stopped laughing. This wasn't funny anymore. How could this person know this information? The mystery person could have, ironically, hacked into his computer, but that was impossible, because Derek was the best of the best.  
"Now the tables have turned, Derek. It is your turn for a complete stranger to ruin _your_ life. Or, if you play your cards right, help you discover salvation. The door in front of you is unlocked. In the other rooms you will find three other prisoners. Your job is to _help_ them. If one of them dies, I will take from you that which you took from others. Your bank account will be canceled, your files deleted, and your back-up disk erased."  
That's all? For the death of a person he doesn't even know? Surely this person could make up a better joke then that!  
"If another one dies, I will see to it that you never see your family again, even if you do make it out alive. And if all three of them die… Well, I'm sure you can guess what will happen to you then. It's all about teamwork, Derek. Let's hope you're a team player."

With a sudden burst of nausea accompanying it, Derek remembered. The man was Jigsaw – a serial killer. He was his newest victim.

Jenna's eyes opened slowly, they had to blink several times before opening completely. They stared up at a decaying ceiling, no more then a year away from collapsing.

"Where am I?" She tried to say, but the words came out in a slur.

Sitting up, she leaned her head over and coughed up all the drool and saliva that had accumulated in her throat while she was out. Clearing her throat a few times, she stood up and observed her surroundings. The room was completely bare, except a lone door and-

And a tape recorder on the door.

"No!" She screamed at a frequency unintelligible, as memories washed over her like a wave.

The tub she had awoke in, the support beam that crashed the ramp she had fallen down, the quiz… and the man that had fried upon her escape.

Remembering the man, she screamed at the thought "HIS FUCKING EYES BURST IN THEIR SOCKETS AND HIS TOUNGE WAS ON FIRE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST OH GOD!"

Falling, his electrocution replayed rapidly in her mind's eye, but she regained control in time to catch herself.

Standing again, she marched over to the door, clinging to false hope that this was all some sort of joke, and that she wasn't in another one of those hellish games.

"Hello Jennifer." Jigsaw's voice greeted her. Hearing those words, Jenna slumped to the floor as the walls echoed her despaired squeal and wet warmth exited her eyes. "By this point in time," Jigsaw began again, "You probably know who I am, and what I do. Ever since playing that last game of ours, you've lived in despair, scarred by the sights you saw – particularly that poor man being electrocuted. As a matter of fact, the only thing keeping you from slitting your wrists in the bathtub is the love of your little brother, Danny. You no longer care about your own life Jennifer, just that of Danny's. Well, taking that into account, I've designed a very special game for you. Inside the house you're trapped in are both three other people, and various traps. Each trap has a clue hidden within. Each clue will lead you closer to the exit. Now, here's the kicker: These traps are fatal ones. If any of your three cellmates dies – just one – I'll show Danny a few things that will make him hate your guts. Incriminating photos, blaming, the works. Simply, your job is to ensure the safety of all people within the house, or your only reason to live – Danny – will be stripped from you. Let the game begin."

"Danny," Jenna whispered, her mind zoning out of the reality in front of her. As much as she hated to admit, she would have to go through another one of Jigsaw's games… for Danny.

Alex woke up with a headache. This was nothing new. He was lying on the floor. He'd probably fallen off of the bed. He stood up and stretched his arms, then his legs.

He began doing his morning stretches, as he did every morning, when he noticed he was not in his apartment. The room he was in was bare, with old peeling brown wallpaper, boarded up windows, and a door at the far end of the room. Attached to the door was a tape recorder labeled "PLAY ME".  
He had a nasty suspicion he knew what this was, but he walked over to the recorder anyway and pressed 'play'.  
"Hello Mr. Burroughs." A raspy voice greeted him, "At first glance, it would seem as though you've been kidnapped. Much like the many people you've kidnapped and killed in your career as a professional hitman."  
He smiled to himself. He knew all about the Jigsaw killer, and now he was part of one of these 'games'. He also knew these games _could_ be beat.  
"Whether it was a business rival, or just some guy they didn't like, people paid you to end the lives of others. Now, it seems to me as though you don't appreciate your life enough to learn to appreciate the lives of others."  
He didn't care for the lives of others. He knew how many families he'd made cry, left without any system of providing sustenance, but the way he saw it, it wasn't his problem or his fault. Death would happen regardless, he just took advantage of the opportunity and made some money along the way.  
"Your job is to get out alive, Alex." Jigsaw continued, "There are traps hidden throughout the house, and each one hides a clue to the whereabouts of the exit. You won't be acting alone however; trapped with you are three other individuals. To solve the necessary riddles, and thus make it to the exit, you're going to have to get to know about each of your companions. They possess knowledge vital to your success. They are disposable however, and once you feel that you no longer need their services, you're free to kill them. Perhaps once you've learned what these people are like, you will learn what you've destroyed… Let the game begin."

He began to picture what the newspapers would say:  
_Jigsaw strikes again! Only Alex Burroughs survives!_

Spitting on the tape recorder, he opened the door, and walked into the hallway.

Jigsaw sat slumped in his wheelchair. His eyes remained focused on the monitor connected to the meeting room, where all the players would meet. Glancing over to the right, he took the oxygen mask off its hook and breathed deep in the sustenance. Every time he breathed it in he could remember Dr. Gordon saying "You've got a particularly virulent strain of cancer… we're talking about a question of "when" not "if", I'm afraid." "If it had been if," John reflected, "Would things still be the way they are now?" It really didn't matter though. He had no time to wish for things – he only had time for games. As if on cue, the door closest to the camera swung open. "Let the game begin." John whispered.


	2. Meeting

"Hello? Is anyone here?" A voice called out.

"I'm here, yeah…" A troubled female voice answered.

"So, I take it you're the other sonsabitches I'm trapped here with, huh?" A deep third voice answered.

"This whole fucking room is too dark!" The female voice whined. "Somebody find a light switch or something!"

"Sure thing Princess," The deep voice taunted.

"I think I found something," The first voice announced.

Suddenly, light flooded the room, revealing all of them.

"Damn," The person with the deep voice said, shielding his eyes. "Bright lights!"

The first voice was unphased, he continued to examine his surroundings carefully.

The room was larger then that of the rooms they started in, but was in equal if not worse condition. Because this room had brick walls, there were not as many decays, but a few rats scurried into holes when the lights flipped on. The roof was in horrible condition, and it wouldn't surprise any of them if it fell at this very moment. Several puddles dotted the floor, probably caused by leaks in the roof. The layout was fairly simple: The rooms they had come out of were lined against the rear wall, with another door-lessarch leading into another room, and a staircase going up to the left.

"All in favor of getting out of here?" The person that called out first asked.

They agreed unanimously.

"The tapes," The female said, "The tapes said we needed each other to get out of here. So we'd better get to know each other, I guess. My name's Jenna."

"Derek," The first voice responded.

"Alex." The deep voice greeted.

"Shit," Cried Jenna. "There are only three of us! Where's the fourth!"

"He's probably in his own room," Derek said, gesturing to the rooms they had just come out of. "Which one did we not come out of?"

After process of elimination, they determined it was the door to the far right the fourth must be in. Walking over to the door, Alex entered nonchalantly. Jenna and Derek followed.

The fourth was a man, he was sprawled out on the floor, unresponsive.

"Fuck," Jenna squealed with terror, hoping she had not already lost Danny. "Is he dead?"

"What's the matter," Alex queried, "Never seen a dead body before?"

"I've seen one before," Jenna said, thinking of the man with the jumbo retainer that had been electrocuted in front of her. His fingerprints were burned off and his teeth melted, so there was no way for the police to identify him.

"He's still breathing," Derek noticed.

Jenna heaved a sigh of relief.

"Wake up," Alex shouted at the man, clapping his hands. Dissatisfied the man had not awoken after that, Alex strode over and shook him.

"DOGS!" The man screamed as he awoke, punching Alex in the chest.

"What the hell!" Alex screamed back at the man, dropping into a defensive stance.

The man rubbed his head murmured, "You're the others, aren't you?" Turning to Alex, he then said, "I'm sorry – I thought you were someone else…"

"Yeah, yeah." Alex said caring little.

"What's your name?" Derek asked the man.

"Chris." He answered.

"I'm Derek. She's Jenna, and he's Alex."

"Pleased to meet you, although I wish it would have been under different circumstances."

"No kidding."

"Well," Alex began, "Now that your "howdy-doodies" are over with, can we start to try and escape? I'd like to leave this shithole A.S.A.P."

They exited the room in soundless agreement.

"Where to first?" Jenna asked, gesturing to the staircase and the door-less arch.

"The stairs don't look to sturdy," Chris observed, "So I'd prefer the ground floor."

"Yeah, he's probably right." Derek agreed.

"Okay then," Alex said, "Stay here, I'll check to make sure its safe – no tellin' what vermin are in the nooks and crannies of that room."

With that, he walked into the room and disappeared from view.

"Why is everyone so calm?" Derek asked. It was clear he was on the verge of tears. "We could die here. Fucking die here."

"I didn't last time," Chris breathed.

"What did you say?"

After a long pause, Chris said, "I've played Jigsaw's games before."

"Holy shit!" Derek exclaimed. "Now I know where I remember you from – you're that washed-up millionaire who was ruined by Jigsaw!"

"Shut up," Chris said, covering his eyes. "You have no idea what I went through."

"I've played before too," Jenna admitted. Her eyes were glazed over, as if she was remembering something very painful.

"You're Jennifer Trevor?" Derek asked.

There was no response.

"You… you two are the experts, right?" Derek asked, overcome with dread. "Are we… are we gonna live?"

"I don't know," Chris whispered, "I just don't know."

"Hey people," Alex called. "You need to come in here. You've got to see this."

Derek ran in first, pushing ahead of the others.  
"Wha-!" He said as he fell. About three feet into the next room, the floor ended in a giant pit. Inside this pit were two-inch needles lined along the dirt ground.  
Alex reacted quickly, grabbing Derek by the end of his shirt collar. The pit was about nine feet deep, and Derek hung there, frightened.  
Jigsaw's words flashed through Alex's mind, _"They possess knowledge vital to your success."_

"Pull me up…" Derek said, staring at the needles in fright.  
"Say 'please'." Alex taunted.  
"PLEASE! Just pull me the hell up!" Derek yelled frightfully.  
With a slight grunt Alex pulled him back up. The first thing Derek checked, of course, was his computer. He examined every inch of it, and when he was sure it was unharmed he sighed in relief.  
"What's that you got there?" Chris asked, kneeling down to see the laptop.  
"It's an ice-cream sundae, you moron." Derek said, standing up and dusting himself off.  
"You're pretty cocky for someone who nearly died." Chris said.  
"Well, I didn't die, now did I?" Derek asked angrily.  
"Well, I guess we have to go up the stairs." Jenna said as she looked back at the door they'd come through with distaste.  
They all turned around and began to file out of the room when Derek noticed a note by the door. He grabbed it and read silently to himself, "_Welcome_ _to the first riddle. The first thing you need to know is that on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs was a gun rigged to fire through the door."_  
Derek's eyes grew wide as he read this line. He looked up to see that Jenna had already made it to the top of the stairs, and her hand was on the doorknob.  
"Stop!" He shouted. "Don't open the fucking door!"  
It was too late, though. She opened the door, and there was a loud gunshot as she fell back into Chris, who in turn knocked down Alex in a strange domino effect. They all fell to the bottom of the stairs.  
"Shit!" Derek cried out, slumping to the floor.

Derek instinctively opened up his laptop. He had no idea what else to do; he was screwed without Jenna. He ran a virus search.  
"_No virus found."_ The screen said. At least one thing was going well.  
He looked up at the others, expecting to see Jenna's carcass on top of them.  
"Get off of me!" Chris shouted angrily as he pushed Jenna to the side. She sat up, shakily. Chris stood up and brushed his hair back. Alex shouted, "What the bloody _fuck_ was that?"  
Derek walked slowly up the stairs to the shotgun, careful to stay out of the way of the hole where the muzzle was, just in case of a second shot. Slid partially under the door was yet another note. It was barely visible; no wonder Jenna had missed it. This one was written out. It read, _"Next time there will be real bullets. Careful which doors you open." _


	3. Grave

"Move," Alex commanded with the sound of a hostage taker as a brushed past Derek. He moved into room swiftly, rapidly checking in all the directions of the room for any more traps. Everyone else soon followed. Wordlessly, Alex grabbed hold of the shotgun that had been bolted to the door, and with one swift movement, pried the gun off by kicking the door down. Wasting no time, he opened the firing chamber to check for additional ammo. "Shit," He ranted as he noticed there had been only one bullet, and that had been fired.

Jenna moaned as she grasped at her shoulder, which had been hit by the blank.

"Are you alright?" Chris queried as he moved over to Jenna.

"I just woke up in a shit hole for the second time, am trapped in a life threatening game again, and just got shot. Yeah, I'm just peachy-keen you fat bastard."

"Hey, don't you talk like that little-missy," Chris commanded, sounding like a parent disciplining their child. "I'm not the one who put you in here. Furthermore, I'm on your side. For lack of a better term, shut the fuck up and start helping."

"Well," Alex retaliated, "She helped by soaking up a bullet for us."

"Shove it up your ass you two!" Jenna shouted.

"Feisty, feisty," Alex observed as he moved close to Jenna and examined her shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to pull the slug out of your shoulder - unless of course you want to keep it as a souvenir."

"What! How could you do something like that?"

"Like this," Alex concluded, and yanked at her shoulder faster then Jenna could react.

"Jesus Christ!" Jenna shrieked, horrified, "Why did you do that?"

"I had to," Alex explained, "Otherwise it would become infected and eventually kill you. It still might, even. So keep it covered and hope to hell we get out of here fast enough."

Jenna had no response, and merely clutched the wound as her eyes glazed over, making her look somewhat loon.

"Let's get going then," Derek said decisively, and everyone else echoed it.

This was also a fairly linear room, there was a computer terminal in the corner, and right by it was a steel door.

"Not again," Alex grunted, and pressed his body up against the door in an attempt to ram in down. Derek and Chris soon followed, all of them trying to ram the door down. Their attempts were in vain however, as the door never budged.

"There's a cassette player by the computer…" Jenna said weakly.

Breathlessly, Chris walked over, grabbed the player, and pressed play.

"Greetings," Jigsaw greeted again, and the looks of disgust on everyone's faces returned. "The room behind the door next to this terminal contains a clue. The door cannot be unlocked however, unless you input the code into the terminal. The code is the answer to this riddle: "Who makes it has no need of it. Who buys it has no use for it. Who uses it has no knowledge of it." This one is pretty tough, so here's a hint: The terminal is the same thing – and not just technically wise. Good luck."

"Derek, you're good with computers, right?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Derek answered.

"Well, an educated guess, based on the fact that you're clinging onto that laptop for dear life."

Derek gave Chris a cold stare.

"And what does that have to do with this?"

"The clue said the code is the same thing as the terminal. What brand is it? What version? Think of everything involved with this computer and maybe that's the answer."

"Well," Derek began, wracking his brain, "It looks like a version 3 Project Blue computer…"

"Try it."

With that, Derek typed into the prompt screen "Version 3 Project Blue". It was shortly followed by "Incorrect."

"Damn," Derek said in frustration, and sat down into the chair in front of the computer. "We might be here a while."

"Maybe there's something out of the ordinary with it?" Chris suggested. "Like, what was the brand made for, or any abnormalities with the system itself, or perhaps a real life incident with the brand…?"

"In all honesty this thing is in good shape. Nothing with this happened like it falling off a desk and crushing a baby or anything, so that's out of the question."

"Go further. Maybe some problems with it, or… um… those errors that happen with those contraptions."

"For a while it went by the nick name of "grave" because of its frequency to enter the B.S.O.D."

""B.S.O.D.?"" Chris and Alex asked simultaneously.

"It stands for "Blue Screen of Death". It's basically when your computer enters a blue screen without you telling it to, and you can't do anything to get out of it, and have to reboot."

"Try B.S.O.D. then."

Derek did so, and was once again met by the "Incorrect" message.

"What did you say the nick name for this computer was?" Jenna asked sheepishly.

""Grave,"" Derek replied matter-of-factly.

"That's it!" Chris exclaimed. "Someone who makes a grave doesn't need it because they're alive, someone who buys it doesn't need one because they're alive, and someone who uses a grave doesn't know their using it because they're dead!"

"That's got to be it," Derek concurred, and began clearing the screen as to type his new answer in.

Something still bothered Chris, however. The tape said what the answer was – a grave – was not just a grave in a technical since. Therefore, did that mean this terminal was going to be someone's grave?

It was, Chris realized, as he noticed the concealed shotgun aimed at the chair Derek was sitting in.

The computer would be Derek's grave.


	4. Feuding

"Wait!" Chris called out, "Gun!"  
Derek froze. He didn't see a gun anywhere, but Jenna had been shot only a few moments ago…  
"If you make one more crack about me taking a bullet for you…" Jenna began.  
"Just shut up and quit yer bitching." Alex said angrily.  
"Look, Derek." Chris said, pointing to the concealed gun. It wasn't surprising no one had noticed it before. It was mounted just above the door they'd entered the room in, pointing at the chair Derek was in. It was only a handgun, but from the looks of it positioned for deadly accuracy.  
"Holy…" Derek began as he got out of the chair and backed away from the gun. They were all silent as they looked at the gun. Undoubtedly Derek would have been shot and killed.  
"How'd you know?" Alex asked at last.  
"What?"  
"How'd you know where it was? There's something you're not telling us, isn't there?" He asked angrily.  
"Oh, yeah," Chris said angrily, "I knew the gun was there the whole time. But you know why I warned Derek?"  
"Why's that, smart guy?" Alex asked, moving in closer.  
"So that it could be _you_ sitting in that ch-"  
Alex punched him in the jaw. Hard. Chris fell to the floor and spat out a few teeth. No surprise, Alex was pretty big. The only surprise was that Chris's jaw wasn't broken, though he wasn't so sure at the moment.  
"Okay," Derek said, trying to remain calm, "How do we get around this?"  
"You have to type it. There's a clue behind that door." Alex said without hesitation.  
"What? I don't wanna die!"  
"Well, you've got to be selfless," Alex egged on, "You can not do anything, and we all die, or sacrifice yourself, and at least three of us have a chance to get out alive."  
"Well, if you're so selfless and caring," Derek said hysterically, "Why don't _you _type the password in?"  
"Why can't we just type it and move out of the way?" Jenna suggested.  
"It'll hit the computer." Chris said thoughtfully. There _had_ to be a way around this.

"So?"  
"So," Derek explained impatiently, "If the computer blows up, so do our chances at getting the riddle on the other side of that door."  
"So? Once you put the code in the door will unlock immediately."

"No it won't. Locks like these always have a five second delay."

"How do we know there's not another gun mounted there?" Jenna asked, eyeing the door suspiciously.  
"It's a risk we have to take." Alex said.  
Chris walked over to the computer and began looking at it. He searched behind it, on all sides, and even under it. There _had_ to be a way around this.  
"What are you doing?" Jenna asked.  
"Derek, do you know how this works?"  
"How what works?"  
"How did Jigsaw wire the gun to fire at us when we type in the password?"  
"The same way he wired the door to open."  
Chris rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed right now was a smartass.  
"How can you not know? You're the computer expert!"

"My expertise is with software, not hardware!"

"Hardware and software?"

"Hardware is the actual machine parts, and software is the programs that make the computer run."

"Oh for God's sake…"

"What if we moved it?" Jenna suggested at last.  
"No," Derek said, shaking his head, "If we do that we risk firing the gun off before it's supposed to. Needless to say, that's a bad thing."

Jigsaw leaned back in his chair, examining the players thoughtfully. For a brief moment he thought he may have made the riddle too hard, but quickly discarded the idea with disgust. If they were to learn the true value of life, there could be no shortcuts.  
After all, that's how he learned. He reflected back on that fateful night, when all he could see was the remnants of his car, with his blood all over it. He would laugh at the irony now, but back then it had been no joke.  
He looked at the digital clock mounted beside his monitor, 8:35. This was one of those few games he made in which time wasn't of the essence. At least, not yet.

"So what are we going to do?" Jenna asked for what seemed to be the millionth time.  
"Maybe it's loaded with blanks, like the last one." Derek said as he moved toward the computer.  
"Do you really want to take that risk?" Chris asked him as he began typing. Derek stopped and backed away from the computer once again.  
They were all silent for a moment, deep in thought. Derek examined the door, looking for some sort of wire.  
"No use." Jenna said weakly, "He's already thought of it."  
"Yeah? How do you know?" Derek asked without looking up.  
"Because, the tape recorder says the door can't be unlocked any other way. Do you honestly think he wouldn't have considered someone hot-wiring it?"  
"Who says I'm hotwiring it?" Derek asked as he pulled out his laptop. He looked up with a mischievous look in his eye, "I'm going to hack it."

"Hack it? You're going to hack Jigsaw's computer?"

"Of course I am, dumbass!"

"You think you really will be able to? Jesus are you a moron! Every angle has been thought out; he's taken every preventive measure to make sure you can't."

"Would you rather be shot?"

And with that Chris crossed his arms and signed, becoming silent.

It was child's play, Derek thought. All he would have to do is connect to the computer and with his proficiency in software he would be able to deactivate the gun. Every computer had a wireless connection output. If you were within 30 feet you could connect. And once he had access it was all over. All he had to do was connect and-

"No wireless connection detected." The laptop reported.

"No, no, shit no," Derek howled.

He crawled over to the computer and, upon further inspection, found that the device that enables wireless connection had be shattered. Chris was right; every angle was thought out.

"Damnit!" He screamed, pounding his fists on the floor.

"That's it!" Alex screamed, and picked up the metal chair by the desk the computer sat on. He sprinted over to the gun mounted on the wall and began to smash it with the chair, letting out a loud grunt every time he did so. It was obvious he was using all of his strength. His efforts were futile however; the gun could not be bend nor moved; as it was safely bolted into the wall.

"Fuck this shit!" Alex screamed, throwing the chair at the ground, to which it made a loud banging noise.

No one said a word as they stared at Alex, who was breathing heavily with a psychotic look in his eye.

"They're all useless," Alex thought. "Every last one of them. At the first chance I get, I'm going to kill them. Every last one."

"The chair," Jenna whimpered. "Put the chair up to the firing end of the gun. It's metal, and should absorb the shot, right?" The word "right" was censored by a fresh bout of pain from her wound, and it sounded like "riAHHHght".

"You're a friggin' genius." Chris complemented Jenna. And walked over to the chair Alex had discarded. "I'll hold the chair up," He instructed, picking up the chair, "Derek, you type in the code."

"Why the fuck do I have to be the one that puts the code in?" Derek asked.

"I'll do it, you coward pussy!" Jenna volunteered, and walked up to the computer.

"You ready?" Chris asked Jenna. She nodded, and began to type. Chris pressed the chair against the firing end with all his might.

There was a quick sound, short and sweet, and then an area of the chair grew red and smoked for a moment, and then died. The door opened a few seconds later.

"Finally," Chris observed, putting the chair down. The bullet fell to his feet harmlessly as he did so.

The four entered the next room.

Inside was a square room, nothing of interest save a small metal alcove. They walked over to it.

It was very small, only two feet wide and teen feet high. Lining the walls were a series of keys and a light bulb on the ceiling. There must have been at least a hundred keys.

A tape recorder was near it as well.

"Hello friends," Jigsaw greeted cheerfully. "The room in front of you, as you can see, is lined with keys. One will open the way forward. Another will be the escape from death. Choose wisely."

"It's only big enough so one person, so who will search?" Chris asked.

"I will." Alex said, and stepped in.

As he did so he tripped over a almost invisible wire outlining the entrance, and the door behind him sealed shut, almost air tight. Then a small pipe began feeding water into the room from the ceiling.

"What the fuck!" Alex screamed out to the three outside.

"What's going on in there?" Chris shouted back.

"The goddamn room is flooding!"

Oh shit. That was the only thought that came to Chris: oh shit. Dammed if his mind, fueled by adrenaline, didn't solve Jigsaw's riddle.

"Listen very carefully," Chris instructed, "One of the keys in there will unlock the door. Find it before the room floods!"

"There are like a thousand keys in here you dipshit!"

"Shut up and start trying the lock!"

And Alex did just that. Chris would get his, oh yes, but only after he was out. Oh crap – the room was already two inches deep with water.

"I'd better get started," Alex said to himself, and reached for a random key.


	5. Balance

"Nope," Alex said, taking his shirt off, "I'm going to plug that pipe and that's that. I'll have all the time in the freaking world."

Alex wadded his shirt into a ball, and shoved it up into the pipe with all his might. It fell to his feet immediately, and he repeated it and shoved it up again, this time harder. Again, it fell.

"Oh goddamnit!" Alex cried out in anguish. "Why won't this shirt stick!"

"What's going on in there?" Chris asked from the safe world outside.

"Aside from me drowning, I'm _trying _to shove this shirt up the pipe to stop the water flow, but it keeps falling!"

"You idiot! With a combination of the water pressure and gravity it won't ever hold!"

"Fine, I'll hold it up there with my own two hands!"

"It will rip in seconds!"

"Screw this shirt then!" Alex said, tossing it to the ground. "I'll plug it up with my own fists!

"Listen to me. Because the pipe is facing down, gravity is pushing it _harder. _That, combined with the already tough pressure, would rip your skin and give you permanent blisters if you tried that."

"Noted Mr. Science, now shut up!"

"I'm going to kill Chris later," Alex promised himself, and began to try keys.

Five minutes later he was unsuccessful, and the water was now knee-deep.

Alex looked around. He had only tried about a fourth of the keys thus far, and with the water rising was fast as it was, there was no way he would be able to try all of them in time.

Outside the alcove, Chris, Derek, and Jenna were brainstorming.

"Maybe the riddle meant something," Derek suggested, "Like, um, he has to choose the 7th key? That's a lucky number right?"

"Spare me your rock-bottom theories…" Chris mocked, and Derek glared at him.

"I'm getting pretty tired of this attitude of yours." Derek said.

"And vice versa." Chris counter-pointed.

"Will you two calm the fuck down?" Jenna screamed. "In case you forgot, Alex is _drowning _in there."

"Does anyone hear ticking?" Derek asked suddenly.

"Yes, you're right, sorry Derek," Chris apologized.

Derek paid Chris no mind. "I'm serious, can't you guys hear ticking?"

"Hey," Chris boomed, insulted, "I'm trying to apologize to you here!"

"Shove it," Jenna said, thrusting a hand towards Chris' mouth.

The trio stood there for a moment, listening.

Alex scrambled around the alcove, looking for anything that could give him a clue as to which was the correct key. He looked all around him, focused, and suddenly it became clear one key was slightly brighter then the others. Not rusted – freshly made for this trap perhaps?

"Gotcha!" Alex screamed triumphantly, and grabbed the key, thrusting it into the lock. He turned it, but it wouldn't unlock the door. It wasn't key.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" He screamed to no one in particular.

Alex cupped his hands, and placed them over his face, closing his eyes.

It was time to kiss his own ass goodbye.

"Yeah, something isdefiantly ticking," All three concluded.

"But why?" Derek asked, "And for what purpose?"

"Look around," Chris commanded, "Find it.

The three looked around the room, and found nothing. As they were about to stop, part of the east wall slid open.

"Look," Jenna said, gesturing to the new opening.

They all approached it carefully, not wanting to fall victim to another trap.

They entered; it was a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower. A tape player was sitting next to the sink. They pressed play without hesitation.

"I'm going to get right to the point this time," Jigsaw greeted with no preamble. "This door was rigged with a spring timer to open three minutes after someone tripped the alcove wire. One of you is in there, drowning. The other three are here. Suspended above the bathtub in this room is a key. The key will unlock the alcove. A key in the alcove will unlock the way forward. Careful, however, as the tub is filled with an acid-like liquid. It won't kill you, don't worry, but if the key falls in – even for just a moment – it will melt the key, rendering it unable to unlock the alcove. In addition, the tub, the walls around the tub, and the key itself, has been smeared with a substance that makes it very slippery. Be very careful, one of your comrade's lives hangs in the balance, as does that key. Don't lose your grip."


End file.
